


So Happy Together

by tisziny



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley is non binary, F/F, Goromcom, Other, movie adaptation imagine me and you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisziny/pseuds/tisziny
Summary: Azira Fell is getting married. This should be her happily ever after but when she meets the alluring Antoine Crowley she can't help but feel a connection she's never had before. Is there such a thing as love at first sight?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Newton Pulsier
Comments: 42
Kudos: 40
Collections: Good Omens Rom Com Event





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Good Omens romcom challenge! Inspired by the movie Imagine Me and You (2005) with a few of my own creative differences. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter One**

Azira chewed on her lip, watching the buildings go by from the back seat of her father’s car. Next to her in the backseat sat her little sister Ada, and little brother Warlock. They were twins, and Azira had no doubts her parents liked them more than her. Warlock because he was the son they had always wanted, and Ada because she was pretty.

She shifted in her seat, her stomaching churning and squirming uncomfortably. In the driver’s seat her father looked up and met her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.

“Not getting cold feet now are you, Azira?” he boomed in a cheerful voice. It, like most things her father said to her, felt underlined in warning. Like he was daring her to run out, after he’d paid so much.

“Gabriel,” her mother admonished. She turned in her seat to look back at Azira. “Don’t listen to him, dear. We’re all  _ very  _ proud of you.”

Yes, Azira thought bitterly. Proud, or if you wanted to put it more honestly, amazed. Because the whole family from her mother and father, to her Uncle Sandalphon and Aunt Uriel, to her cousins and grandparents and- well everyone other than the twins really. They all thought she was destined to be single forever. They commented on what she wore, what she ate, what she said. 

‘ _ Oh Azira, don’t wear that, you look frumpy’ _

_ ‘Azira you can’t wear that sweater, its stretched too tight _ ’

‘ _ Another serving of cake Azira, do you really think that’s wise? _ ’

None of them ever expected her to get married. She was the fat one. Too chubby and round for anyone to love. And yet here she was. In a big white dress her mother had snidely said made her look like a meringue -rather ruining one of Azira’s favourite desserts- and her father loved to repeat it, smiling like it was the best joke of the year. He meant well, she thought. She tries to think he does. It was always so hard to tell with him.

They pulled into the church driveway and found a place to park. Warlock immediately opened his door and went running through the church grounds, followed quickly by Ada. Azira watched them, her stomach twisting further with nerves. 

"They'll ruin their clothes," remarked Gabriel, but his wife was already alighting from the car and shepherding the two of them into proper behavior with a few stern words. 

"Mother won't let anything happen," Azira said, watching as she lectured the twins and marched them into the church. 

"Quite right. She's a wonderful woman. Why I married her," Gabriel said.

He unfastened his seatbelt and opened his door, Azira watched him step out and waited patiently for him to come around and assist her. She unbuckled her own seat belt and looked up to see her father entering the church without her. 

Gathering the layers of her dress as best she could Azira opened her own door and carefully stepped out onto the dewy grass. She walked over the drive and up to the church steps, collecting herself as best she could. This was it. Her big day. 

And she loved Newt, she did. He was the sweetest man she'd ever met, and nothing like her family, which was a breath of truly fresh air. 

"Azira! There you are."

Azira looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway. She had an exasperated expression on her narrow face and she hurried down the steps to take a firm grip on Azira's wrist and pull her into the building. 

“Everybody is waiting. Honestly Azira, you can’t let a chance like this slip away from you. Heaven knows you won’t get another.”

“Yes. Yes of course Mother.”

Michaela Fell took her daughter's hands, pausing before the large doors that would lead into the main church. They stood together silently, Azira looking up into her mother’s sharp eyes.

“Oh, my dear darling Azira,” Michaela said softly, “I do wish you’d had someone else do your make-up for you.”

She let go before Azira even registered her words, and slipped quickly away. The organ began to boom and Gabriel took to Azira’s side, linking their arms.

She had no bridesmaids, but Ada and Warlock held a basket between them, leading the way down the aisle, dropping handfuls of petals along the way. Azira walked down the aisle with her father. Gabriel extended his hand and took Newt’s in a firm and powerful handshake that trembled through the poor groom. Shortly thereafter the priest began to speak. 

Newt stumbled over his vows, and Azira recited hers. They kissed chastely at the altar and were announced to be lawfully wed in the eyes of God. There were cheers and applause, Azira and Newt held hands and tentatively waved at their guests as they made their way back up the aisle and outside. Newt’s mother rushed through the crowds to hug them both. Azira’s father made a loud comment about her not being his problem anymore, grinning at his perceived joke.

Azira looked away, trying not to let it get to her and noticed as a stranger broke away from the crowd. They were dressed in absurdly tight trousers and a charcoal grey waistcoat over a white t-shirt. Azira watched them walk away from the church, admiring their daringly short haircut and the way each step rolled through their body with such a sway and swagger it made them seem almost boneless. The stranger made their way across the grass and dirt driveway to a black van emblazoned with a logo of a rose and the words  _ Temptation Carnations _ on the side.

“Azira?”

Azira was pulled back to reality with a jolt. Newt was looking at her expectantly. 

“Yes?”

“They want us for photos,” Newt said, and Azira nodded, walking with the rest of the bridal party to the garden area the photographer had deemed the best place for their shoot.

As she walked Azira looked subconsciously over her shoulder. Instantly her eyes locked with the stranger’s. The world seemed to drift away, like the blur of an instagram filter, leaving her vision tunnelled so only the stranger fell into focus.

They raised a hand in a casual wave, and Azira did the same before stumbling on the uneven terrain and breaking eye contact to stop herself falling into the mud.

“Who was that?” Newt asked once Azira had righted herself once more.

“I don’t know,” Azira said, and she looked back in time to see the black van pulling out into traffic. She turned back to Newt and offered him a smile. “So, photos?”

\----------------------------------------------

The reception was organised by her parents, a fact that was painfully obvious by the blindingly white and minimalist decor, a teeth rottingly cheesy DJ and truly awful attempts at MCing. Newt, bless him, took this in his stride, the way he did everything. He was polite and mingled, he laughed at her father’s ‘jokes’ and danced with her mother, all the while happy with the knowledge that this was temporary.

Azira’s approach was to hide. This was rather impeded by it being her wedding, and of course by her large meringue dress. She’d just escaped a dance with her slimy Uncle Sandalphon and rushed to the buffet table with a large bowl of what she hoped was an alcoholic punch.

She ladled herself a cup and drank it in one continuous gulp, then poured herself another. Drinking that down too Azira plucked a stray strawberry from the bottom of her cup and ate it, finding to her delight it was soaked with wine. 

She grabbed the ladle poked at the punch for more fruit, finding pieces of cut orange and blueberries along with the strawberry. Happy she fished these into her cup before straining out the punch. She was just about to begin munching on her fruit salad of sorts when she realised with a great jolt of anxiety something was missing. 

"Hello,"

Azira turned, face flushing pink as the punch, and found herself face to face with the stranger she'd seen outside the church. 

"We haven't met," the stranger said, "I'm Crowley."

Azira held out her right hand, hiding her left in the folds of her dress. They shook. 

"Azira Fell."

"I did your flowers," Crowley explained. 

"Oh, thank you. I love the flowers."

Crowley nodded, "You're welcome. I was just going to get myself a drink…"

"No!" Azira stepped out slightly, blocking the punch. Realising she had rather snapped Azira sighed, "Sorry. But, you can't."

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes-No. I- my ring." Azira stuttered.

"Your ring? Your wedding ring?"

Azira gave up, she turned, allowing Crowley to see the punch bowl. 

"It fell off."

"Fell off- What, in there?"

Azira nodded glumly and Crowley laughed, watching as this bride blindly waded through the dark pink punch with the ladle. Pushing their laughter back Crowley held up a hand.

"You won't get it out that way. Cover me."

Azira's brow creased in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"With your dress. Cover me, I'm going in."

Realisation dawned on Azira and she stepped aside, blocking Crowley and the punch from view. She watched as they wiggled long fingers before delving down into the punch. Oh dear, she thought. This was quite ridiculous.

"Oh there you are!"

Azira turned, saw another of her Uncles approaching, and shifted slightly to the right, her left hand behind her back as she tried to block his way to the punch. 

"Uncle Met," she said, forcing a smile. "How's Grandmother?"

Uncle Met and Uncle Sandalphoon were twins, both considerably older than her father. Their mother lived with Met and spoke to the rest of the family very rarely. She left the house even less. She had not come to the wedding. 

"Oh, wonderful, wonderful." Met said in a deep booming voice. "She sends her congratulations. She's as surprised as the rest of us I'd say."

Crowley's hand was deep in the punch bowl, groping blindly for anything that felt hard and round. 

"Be sure to pass along my thanks to her. And my love."

"To speak to me is to speak to Mother," Met said with a strong and honest nod. "Now, I heard your father say this is a palatable punch, if you would be so kind…"

Panicked, Azira spoke in a rush, "Oh you wouldn't like it Uncle, it's full of wine!"

Crowley's fingers brushed something cool and smooth resting at the bottom of the bowl.

"Well if there's any time to be a bit lax and have a nice drink, a wedding is surely it. Now step aside my dear, I'll get us both a nice glass."

It was the ring. With great urgency Crowley pulled it from the depths of punch and quickly slipped it back onto Azira's waiting finger. Azira gave a sigh of relief and stepped aside. Uncle Met nodded and immediately ladled himself and Azira a glass.

"Here you are," he said, passing Azira hers. He caught sight of Crowley and raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Antoine Crowley, I did the flowers."

Met nodded politely and held out his hand. "Very nice to meet you Miss Crowley."

Something in Crowley's features twitched, but they reached out just the same and shook Met's hand with their own very wet and vaguely sticky hand. Met's nose wrinkled in distaste. 

"Charmed," he managed to say before making a weak excuse about checking on his wife and walking away. 

Azira watched him go with amusement, holding back a snicker as she saw him find a stray napkin on the nearest table and wipe his hand furiously. She turned to thank Crowley -the embarrassment she’d have faced if her family knew her ring had fallen into the punch didn’t bear thinking about- but as she turned she found Crowley no longer there, and she was in fact, standing by the punch alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to add a special thank you to SummerofSpock for reading through an early draft of this fic and her encouragement while i complained about writers block. And to my girlfriend too, for reading through this last night despite having seen the movie and show exactly once each and not being a part of the fandom.

The bell above the door jingled as a customer walked into the shop. Crowley looked up from their laptop at the counter and saw a harried man with a receding hairline. He moved from plant to plant with a frantic energy, dismissing each one as he went. 

"Can I help you?" Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"I want a plant," said the man. 

Obviously, Crowley thought. But they held back the word and walked around the counter to their customer with a well practiced smile.

"Do you know what kind of plant you want?"

The man didn't look up, but spoke as he continued to walk around the shop. 

"It has to be perfect. The Perfect Plant. It's for my girlfriend, I royally cocked up."

"Perhaps a flower?" The bell rang again, someone else walking into the shop. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"I'm in no rush," said a female voice. 

Crowley turned around and saw Azira standing by the door, admiring a selection of lilies. She looked different, plainer, her white blonde hair pulled into a loose plait over her shoulder. It suited her and put Crowley in mind of a professor, dressed in an off white blouse and tan cardigan over a long grey skirt. 

Azira caught Crowley watching her and smiled. Crowley smiled back, forcing their attention back to the customer.

"You," he said abruptly, pointing to Azira. "What's your favourite flower?"

Azira seemed startled at being addressed by the stranger but recovered enough to stutter out, "I've always liked roses?"

"Roses are rubbish," he dismissed. "Too obvious."

He disappeared around the corner where Crowley had a display of potted plants rather than cut flowers. They decided he was beyond help really and would only know what he wanted when he saw it, so Crowley turned their attention to Azira.

"How are you? Back from your honeymoon?"

"Yes," Azira said sweetly, "we went to Orkney. Newt had family there as a child."

"Lovely,"

There was a pause. Crowley tried to think what to say to fill it but could only come up with lines they used for customers. They hesitated. Azira seemed to be weighing her options too, her mouth kept opening as if to speak then shutting. 

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Azira blurted out after a moment. 

"Yes!”

Crowley and Azira both jumped at the sudden outburst. 

“Found it. My Perfect Plant." The peculiar man came back into view holding a potted cactus Crowley had on display as a bit of a joke. But this customer didn't seem to mind, and he pressed a five pound note into Crowley's hand with a grin and promptly left. 

Azira stared after him a moment before saying, "Did that cactus look a bit like a-"

"Cock?"

The blonde blushed. "I was going to say phallus."

Crowley shrugged, "Yeah, yeah it did."

Part of them was a little sad to see cactus go actually. It made for a fun afternoon when some holier-than-thou type tried to complain it was obscene. Crowley would play ignorant until they'd all but spelled it out, then gasp dramatically and say in no uncertain terms that it was just a simple cactus and any thought saying otherwise was perverted.

"It'd give you one hell of a prick, though, eh?"

Azira blushed harder, but giggled at the joke.

She had a pretty laugh, Crowley thought. The kind that reached into your heart and squeezed until you gave a light laugh of your own. 

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"Dinner," Azira stuttered, "with Newt and me, as a, a thank you. For the er-"

"Flowers?"

"-punch."

Crowley grinned, "Alright. Sounds lovely just text me the details." 

They walked to the counter and grabbed a card for the shop. Azira took it with a shy smile. 

"Is Friday okay?"

"Friday's perfect."

Crowley saw Azira out with a wave and went back to their laptop. A familiar squirming feeling settled into their stomach, excitement working its way through them. Oh this was dangerous, they thought, Azira was off limits. A married woman, and straight to boot. But they couldn't quite shake the sound of her laughter from their head. 

\-----------------

Friday came quickly and Azira rushed home from her job at the city library to find Newt already there. It was a small flat, his from before the wedding and Azira had only just started to feel settled in. 

She kicked off her work shoes with a sigh of relief and collapsed into the worn out leather couch.

"Glass of wine, darling?" Newt asked from the cramped kitchen, already reaching for a glass. 

"Yes, thank you," Azira said, rubbing the feeling back into her feet. 

He walked to the couch to give her the wine and she sipped with a happy sigh.

"I should get ready. She'll be here soon…"

"Dinner's almost done,"

Azira shrugged, her gaze shifted, not focusing on anything as she spoke. "You know when you've just met someone but straight away… you feel as if they're going to be your friend?"

"I made mum's cottage pie,"

"You can't place why, past lives of physiognomy but for some reason. It's like you've known them all along. You just connect?" she shook herself, taking another sip of wine and sitting up a bit in her seat. "I don't know what I'm saying. But do you know what I mean?"

"No idea. Er, she's not a vegetarian is she?"

"I don't know. I didn't think to ask. But she didn't mention it."

Newt nodded, "Probably alright then."

Azira placed her wine glass to one side and pulled herself from the couch to get ready. She showered briefly and dried off with one of her exuberant fluffy towels and padded to the bedroom. Newt sat on the bed in an open button down, lifting his hips to pull up a pair of trousers over his backside. 

"How do I look?" he asked, standing, "is this shirt okay? I bought it for that interview next week."

"It's lovely," Azira smiled. "You're lovely."

"Not as lovely as you," he grinned, walking around the bed to pull teasingly at the edge of her towel. "What time is she coming, maybe we could-"

The doorbell rang and Newt swore under his breath. 

Azira rolled her eyes, pushing him playfully toward the door. He went, but not before pressing a kiss to her cheek and grabbing his shoes. He pulled them on as he shuffled through the flat to buzz their guest inside and just finished buttoning his shirt when he heard a knock at the door. Newt pulled it open with a smile. 

"Hello," he said. "You must be Crowley."

"And you must be Newt," they responded. 

They paused awkwardly before Newt remembered himself and stepped aside to let them in. 

"Azira's just changing," he explained. He rushed to the kitchen and poured them both a glass of wine, offering one to Crowley as they sat together on either end of the leather couch. 

Crowley sipped. This was a stupid idea, coming here, they thought. They should have just let Azira say her thank you and never see her again. There were plenty other beautiful women in the world, preferably single and queer ones. 

But they were here now. May as well face the music.

"How was your honeymoon? Azira said you went to Orkney island?"

"Hm? Oh yes, it was great actually. I could only get the week off but it was lovely."

Crowley nodded, and lifted the wine glass to their lips.

"And uh, what about you?" Newt said, trying to keep some sort of conversation going. "Are you married? Engaged? Boyfriend?"

"No, no and not really my area."

Confusion creased in Newt's brow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm queer."

Newt looked at them blankly.

"Is that a problem?"

"Oh! No, no. Not at all. I just, I thought queer was, was a uh, outdated-"

"Slur?"

He nodded and Crowley shrugged, taking another sip of their wine -it was surprisingly good. 

"A lot of people like to reclaim it. And it's a handy word, like an umbrella. I use it because I'm primarily attracted to women, but I don't want to rule out the idea I might find someone that has a penis or identifies as a man. Or someone like me."

"Like you?"

"Non binary."

Newt nodded. He'd heard that term before, but he'd never met anyone that used it. Not wanting to offend he decided the best course was to promptly change the subject. 

"So uh, Crowley is an unusual name?"

"It's my last name. I don't like using my first."

Newt nodded, and was saved from responding by the bedroom door opening. Azira walked out, a smile on her face and empty wine glass in hand. She came straight over, greeting Crowley and taking a seat in the chair by the desk crammed into the corner of the room. 

"Newt, when can we expect dinner? I'm ravenous."

"It's ready to serve. I was just keeping it warm."

"Oh good; shall we?"

The three of them stood, Azira and Crowley taking a seat opposite each other at the table while Newt retrieved the cottage pie from the oven. He carried it out and sat the dish on the pot stand in the centre of the table and began to serve.

"Tuck in," Azira said to Crowley, lifting her own plate closer to the dish as Newt loaded a hearty serve onto it. 

Any conversation was lost in the enjoyment of food. Azira moaned indulgently around each bite and Crowley found themself eating without really registering it. All they took in were the happy sighs and satisfied hums coming from the woman opposite them. 

Realising they'd been staring Crowley hurriedly looked down to their plate and shovelled a mouthful of mash and beef into their mouth. It had been a long time since they'd had a home cooked meal. They were a terrible cook, and usually if they fancied a change from instant microwave meals and take away they would go to their mother's. But their mother hadn't been cooking anything for months. 

"This is delicious," they said to Newt. 

"It's my mum's recipe," he said, "honestly it's the only thing I can make aside from toast or a fry up."

Crowley laughed, "I'm the same. Useless in the kitchen, much better suited to gardening. I can grow a vegetable, easy. Cook with it? Not my forte."

Azira smiled politely, serving herself another helping.

"So how did you two meet?" Crowley asked curiously.

"In highschool," Newt said, taking another bite of mash. 

"I went to an all girls school," Azira elaborated, "and Newt went to the boys school down the road. There were a few classes that weren't offered at the girls campus and so a group of us would have to walk down the road and round the corner to the boys school. Newt was in my religious history class."

"Ahh, and it was love at first sight?" Crowley asked, 

Azira shook her head. "We didn't get together then. Not until after college."

"I was very shy around girls," Newt said. "still am really."

Crowley chuckled, "but you knew then? How you felt?"

Azira shook her head. "You don't know, not straight away. It just feels… warm and comfortable… and you hang in there and give it a chance, before you know it, you're like… 'Yeah, this is it. Must be love'."

Newt smiled, reaching out to cover Azira's hand with his own on the table. "Yeah. I'm with her."

"I don't agree." 

The couple looked over to Crowley. Azira looked over to them, feeling their golden eyes bearing into her. Right to her soul. How did they do that? 

"I think you know immediately. You know, as soon as you catch each other's eyes. Then everything that happens from then on is just proof you were right in that first moment. When you suddenly realized you had been incomplete and now you are whole."

Crowley stared back at them and Newt slowly nodded along. 

"Actually, I'm with her-them, I'd say."

He gave Azira a teasing smile and kissed her temple. "Who wants pudding? We have ice-cream, or there's some trifle in the fridge."

"No," Azira said suddenly

Not knowing Azira to be one to turn down dessert Newt frowned. "No?"

"No. If that's true, then anyone that doesn't have all that…" She waved her hand, "business, is settling for less."

"That's not what I'm saying." Crowley said, taken aback. 

"That rather is what you're saying."

Newt, looked between them. He could see the tension in Azira's shoulders. In the sharpness of her tone and her firm gaze. He squeezed her fingers gently and stood up. 

"If that was what she was saying, she did make it sound a lot nicer," he said. "Now, ice-cream?"

There was no more mention of the meaning of love or validity of love at first sight after that. Crowley's words however echoed through Azira's mind all through dessert and their final glass of wine on the settee later. It was later in the night than she'd expected when they finally walked Crowley to the door and bade them good night. 

Azira took herself through the motions of brushing her teeth and dressing in her pyjamas for bed. She climbed between the covers and lay down, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for Newt to turn off the light.

"That was nice," he said. "look at us, hosting dinners. Like regular, social people."

Azira nodded, not really hearing him. 

"You alright?"

She looked up. Newt stood in his boxers and pulled on a threadbare shirt before joining her in the bed. 

"Do you really agree with her?" Azira asked. 

"Who?"

"Crowley. About that stuff she was saying. Love at first eye contact."

Newt shrugged, taking his glasses off and placing them in their case on the bed side table. "It makes sense."

He turned off the light, casting them both in darkness. A faint orange glow of the street lamps outside crept through the gaps in the curtains. Newt lay on his side facing Azira in the bed. 

"Did you know? When we met?" she asked. 

"Yeah, I think I did. At least I hoped. Thought you were out of my league to be honest," Newt reminisced. "What about you?"

Azira took her time, chewing on her lip thoughtfully, her gaze still fixed to the ceiling. 

"...No" she said eventually, "I didn't think about it, really. Not until we were dating."

Newt stifled a yawn against his pillow. "People are just different I guess."

"I suppose you're right." she sighed and rolled over to face her husband. "Good night."

"Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post updates once or twice a week, so sorry for the long wait for this chapter.


	3. Chapter Three

Saturday saw Crowley in Tescos with an old friend. Esther was one of the very few childhood friends Crowley had kept in their life. She was staying with Crowley, hoping to move back to London after a long employment at an estate in the countryside where she worked in a private manner as a nanny. Esther was a good friend to have, but she had the irritating habit of making Crowley talk about whatever it was they wanted least to say.

"You've got something on your mind," Esther said in her Scottish brogue. "Care to elaborate?"

"Why should I?" Crowley deflected. They were supposed to be buying supplies, Esther was taking pity on them and offered to cook. 

"Because beneath this... rugged exterior, there beats a sensitive soul."

Crowley snorted. "No there doesn't. What a load of rot."

"No," Esther shrugged, "there doesn't. But tell me anyway, darling."

With a long sigh Crowley gave in. It would be much easier to get all this out now rather than risk Esther saying something in front of Crowley's mother. 

They shuddered at the thought. 

"Have you ever met someone and you… But they had someone else already?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"What did  _ I  _ do?” Esther smirked, “I shagged them."

Crowley shook their head and picked up a can of something from the shelf just to give themself something to do. "I think it’s crossing a line. Messing with other couples- you shouldn’t cause that pain. Just face the facts that it can't happen and walk away."

Unbeknownst to them just a few aisles away Azira and Newt were also spending their day with a Saturday shop.

“Last night went really well,” Azira said happily, picking up a packet of her favourite biscuits and adding them to their trolley. “We should try to do it again.”

Newt steered on, walking down the aisle.

“Yeah, I guess. It was nice. Are we those people now? The people that have people over and dinner parties and things?”

Azira pulled a face, thinking of her father’s schmoozing and ostentatious facade of hospitality on the few occasions they’d had the neighbours or his business partners around for dinner.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It's peculiar, I went round to say thank you, for what she did at our wedding, and… Have you ever met someone and straight away you feel as if they're going

to be your friend? Like you've known them your whole life? And you can't place why. Whether it's past life or a guardian angel looking down and giving you a gift; you just… fit?"

She trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't know what I'm saying. But do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Newt said, grabbing some muesli and nut bars to eat on his way to work, "I mean, sort of. Like, like in movies and stuff. Soulmates. Right?"

"No, not like Soulmates. Like friends."

He frowned, "Ah right. Then no, I don't. Sorry."

Azira sighed. They rounded the end of the aisle and found the pasta. Azira searched for the cheaper brand and selected some penne, spaghetti and shells.

"Do you think we should set her up?"

"Hmm?"

Newt was mumbling to himself, reading the ingredients list of two different but effectively the same pasta sauce jars. 

"Crowley," Azira explained. "She seemed awfully interested in how we got together. Maybe she's a little lonely. Are there any men at your work looking for someone nice?"

Newt snorted. He chose the pasta sauce with the blue label and returned the reject to the shelf before turning to see Azira waiting expectantly. 

"What?"

"You didn't answer the question."

"You didn't twig?" he asked, pushing the trolley along and grabbing a can of diced tomatoes on his way. 

"Twig what?"

They reached the end of the aisle and Newt tossed a handful of instant soup sachets in with the rest of their shopping. 

"That Crowley is -right there, speak of the devil!"

Azira looked up startled to see Crowley walking toward them, lounged over the handle of their own shopping trolley. A tall woman in a tight and fashionable pencil skirt and blazer stood with her. 

"Hey," Newt smiled, his eyes flicking between the two. 

"Oh, hi," Crowley exclaimed in surprise. 

Azira shifted, wondering if Crowley had heard any of their conversation and if she should feel embarrassed. She did anyway. "Hello."

The stranger smiled a thin smile that hid more amusement than it showed. "Hi," she said in a velvet tombre. 

"That's weird," Newt said, "we were just talking about you."

Crowley frowned a little, "Nothing awful, I hope?" but then they noticed the curious way Newt was looking at their companion. "Oh, fuck, sorry. Newt, Azira, this is Esther."

Newt held out his hand and Esther accepted it with a dainty yet strong grip. 

"Nice to meet you," Newt nodded. He flexed his fingers after the handshake released and adjusted his glasses nervously. 

"I'm sure," Esther smiled again. It made Azira feel uneasy. Like she was being analysed by this Scottish beauty and was found inferior.

"So, Saturday shopping?" Crowley said, their voice higher than was usual. 

"Yeah,"

"Enjoy it. And uhh, thanks for dinner."

Azira nodded, "Thank you for coming. We should…”

“Definitely.”

“We will.”

Crowley nodded, straightening up a bit. “Okay. Well, have a nice shop…”

“You too.” Smiled Azira, and the two trolleys passed into the adjacent aisles.

When it felt safe enough, Newt lent in a bit closer to Azira. He spoke in a low tone.

“That’s what I was just saying. Crowley’s queer.”

“She’s a lesbian?”

“Something like that. She- They said it was an umbrella. And they’re nonbinary too, so I think maybe they don’t use ‘she’.”

A handful of feet to the left another conversation began.

“What in hell was going on there?” Esther drawlled, “That better not be who I think it was.”

Crowley ignored her, and grabbed something at random, adding it to the trolley without looking.

“I mean, she's not just heterosexual. She’s stuffy angelic prude heterosexual, probably raised bloody Catholic too.”

"How do you know she's a prude?"

"Those two? Oh please, I've had lunches more exciting than anything they get up to."

Crowley rolled their eyes. "Doesn't matter anyway does it? She married."

"Dreadfully so,"

They reached the end of the aisle and once again spotted Azira and Newt. 

Esther smirked, calling out. "Oh hello again. We were just talking about you this time."

Crowley shot her a look which she ignored.

"We're just off actually, we'll be late for kickoff." Newt said.

"Oh, there's hours yet, isn't there?" Azira complained. The one thing she rather disliked doing with Newt was going to his bloody football games. 

"Kickoff?" Esther asked in faultless feigned interest. 

Newt nodded nervously. "Yeah, a, uh sport thing, football team."

"Oh, how darling. Crowley, isn't that darling?" Esther exclaimed playfully tapping her hand over Crowley's arm.

Crowley rather wished they had the ability to burn their friend with the power of their glare. They adjusted their grip on the trolley, making to push it the opposite way.

"Well, I hope you win," they said, and they were just about free of this nightmare scenario when Newt spoke with an abrupt determination they hadn't expected of him. 

"Esther, are you gay?"

"Oh, good Heavens," Azira breathed. 

Esther just laughed, a high and posh cackle that screamed irony. "Am I gay? I'm  _ ecstatic _ ."

"And you two are... "

"No," Crowley cut in before Esther could stir things up even more, "We're not."

"She tries and tries, but alas, I'm betrothed to another. Although I dare say my Francine wouldn't mind the company."

Crowley gave up on subtly then, and elbowed their friend rather squarely in the ribs. 

"Have fun,with your football. And uh, I... I'll call you."

"Do," Azira smiled, "We must definitely…"

"Definitely."

"We will." Newt agreed, he checked his watch, antsy of getting home in time. "We're going that way." 

Azira gave a short wave, "Goodbye."

"Bye," Crowley said, turning away gratefully. 

Esther grinned, "Goodbye Newt, Azira. Have a devilish afternoon."

The two pairs went their separate ways. Newt and Azira to the checkout, Crowley and Esther down the next aisle. Esther followed behind her sulking friend, ignoring the sporadic glares coming from them.

"Well," she said. "That was fun, such lovely friends you've made Crowley. I'm almost proud."

"Almost?"

"Well, you have fallen for a straight girl.”

“Bugger off,” Crowley said, “Or I won’t let you crash with me and you and Francine will have to live in some shite hotel until you find a new flat.”

Esther was unmoved by the threats and just continued on in her search for ingredients, leaving Crowley with nothing to do but follow her.

\-------------------------

Azira swiped the tip of her lipstick carefully over her lips. It was new -an impulse buy from her trip into Boots for Newt’s antacids- and it wasn't a colour she'd have considered before, a deep chestnut red, like a bold wine aged to perfection.

She pressed her lips together, evening out the spread of lipstick before blotting on a folded tissue. 

"Almost ready?" Newt asked, peering from the bathroom door. 

"Yes," Azira replied, and she stood up to collect her bag from the bed. 

"Excellent, we still have about an hour before the reservation but Dick Turpin has been acting up a bit so it's probably best we leave early."

Azira nodded, sitting down on the end of the bed to pull on her shoes. A shrill tune blared from Newt's pocket. He pulled out his phone, checking the screen and pulling a face. 

"It's my boss." He explained, "I should probably take this, I'll just be a minute." 

He left the room, answering the phone as he went.

Azira fastened the buckles on her shoes and stood up. She went to the bathroom mirror and considered her reflection. Maybe the lipstick was too much, she worried. Too dark. Too bold. She only bought it because the colour had reminded her of-

She walked back to the bedroom and reached for the land-line, a classic old rotary phone that had once belonged to her grandmother. She reached into her bedside drawer and found a notebook with Crowley's details scrawled down inside. 

Before she could think about it Azira dialed.

"Hello?"

Crowley answered. Azira hadn't expected them to answer. 

She hung up quickly and grabbed her bag, heading out to see what had happened to Newt. He was still on the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Okay. Yep. I'll come right in-" he hung up and swore under his breath. 

"What was that about?"

"Trouble at work. There’s malware on the computers causing issues and they need it fixed by first morning so I have to go back in and- I'm sorry."

Azira opened her mouth to reassure him it was fine when the landline rang. Newt grabbed the more modern cordless receiver and answered.

"Hello? Oh hi Crowley, how are you?" he said, "I'm bollocksed, just been called back to work and Azira and I had reservations- hey actually, are you free? Only I'd hate to lose the reservation, Azira's been looking forward to this for weeks… Seven thirty. You're sure? Perfect, thank you. Have a good time. Bye."

He hung up again, this time with a smile. 

"That was Crowley. They're coming over to pick you up and you can have dinner together so I can get this thing at work sorted."

"You shouldn't have done that," Azira groaned, "we could have rebooked it."

Newt frowned, "But I thought they were your friend-soulmate. Your instant connection… thing."

"I," Azira hesitated. "What time are they coming?"

"Right now. I'm sorry I'm going to miss dinner, darling. But you'll have a great time with Crowley, I know it." He began to search for his keys and work satchel, not bothering to change from his dress trousers and a clean button up shirt. "I should go, before I get fired again. Crowley won't be long, they live in Mayfair apparently."

Azira blinked dumbly for a moment. "I- do they even know where we're going?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far! I really appreciate it :)


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley sat across from Azira, watching with happy amusement as Azira took the last bite of her dessert and hummed happily at the flavour before chewing and swallowing. They had never been to the Ritz before, and hadn't exactly dressed for the occasion with a leather jacket over a pair of distressed jeans and a loose v-neck shirt. But they could see why Azira liked it. Why she made the effort.

"That was scrumptious," Azira commented, patting her mouth with her cloth napkin.

"Yes," agreed Crowley, though they hadn't had a dessert, only a coffee.

Azira smiled, noticing Crowley's coffee cup was empty. "Well. What shall we do now?"

Crowley felt a grin pull at their features. "I have just the thing."

The pair accepted their bill from a server, and split the payment between them. They left the Ritz and Crowley led Azira back to her flash old car. Azira had no real knowledge of cars but she knew enough to realise this car wasn't old like Dick Turpin was old, but rather old in the way it was no doubt a collector's dream car. 

And for an old car, it moved remarkably quickly. The car seemed to behave as an extension of Crowley themself. It was exhilarating and terrifying, tearing through the London streets without a care. Other cars blasted their horns and Azira hung on for life while Crowley just sang along to the Queen cover playing from their Spotify playlist. 

They arrived and Azira breathed a sigh of relief before exiting the car. 

"Where are we?" she asked Crowley curiously. 

"Somewhere fun."

It was a games arcade. Azira had never been to one before. Not a proper one. As a teenager she had played an occasional game of pinball at the cinema, but she had never been any good at it.

They didn't have pinball here. They had claw machines and shooting simulation games Azira steered clear of. They had one where they threw basketballs through a hoop over and over. Crowley was better at it than Azira, and the machine spat out a ribbon of tickets at the end of the game. Next they played a game where the character on the screen wielded a flaming sword to fight demons. Azira surprised herself by being quite sufficient at that one, collecting her own row of tickets at the end. 

The game they played the most was a ridiculous but addictive game where they could play side by side and compete with each other. It was supposed to be a dance game, Azira didn't usually dance and Crowley was terrible, but they jumped to the music mimicking a character on screen, trying to hit the right arrows with their feet at the right moment. 

By the end of night they had a small bundle of tickets between them. They redeemed them at the arcade counter for a gimmicky headband with flashing devil horns on it. Crowley slid them on proudly, pulling off the look with an effortlessness Azira couldn't dream of. 

It was late, and Azira only somewhat reluctantly went back to Crowley's car for a lift home. 

“Tell me about flowers,” Azira asked as they drove.

“What about them?”

Azira sighed, thinking of the novels she had read where lovelorn suitors would express their affection through the language of flowers. “What they mean. Tell me about the rose.”

“You don’t want to know about the rose,” Crowley countered, “ask me about the azalea.”

“Okay. What about the azalea?”

“The azalea means ‘may you achieve financial security’.”

“How lovely,” Azira replied dryly, “now can you tell me about the rose?”

Crowley paused a moment, their teeth pulling nervously over their bottom lip. “The rose…” they hesitated and stole a glance over to Azira. She sat watching Crowley with such earnest fascination and openness and Crowley felt their resolve softly crumble.

“A thornless rose means ‘love at first sight’.”

They turned down a small alley. It was a one way street, but someone had come down the wrong way and was trying to turn around in the narrow alley rather than reverse out. 

"Bollocks," Crowley muttered under their breath. “Bloody idiot, you can't turn in a one way alley.”

"Can't you beep them?" Azira asked, 

"That won't do anything. If you're gonna have a road rage you want them to  _ feel _ it. You want them to know."

Azira frowned slightly. "How would you do that?"

"Well, first you roll down your window." They waited and Azira promptly realised it was an instruction and she did so.

"Then," Crowley continued, "picture your mouth like- like a cathedral. You want them to hear your abuse, so you need to imagine you’re filling a cathedral's worth of space with your voice."

Azira nodded slowly, still frowning.

"Next, broaden your diaphragm."

"My  _ what _ ?"

Crowley pushed back a snicker and instead reached across to place their hand against Azira's front, just under her sternum. "It's here. Take a breath and push it out against my hand."

Azira did as she was told, taking a breath and pressing into Crowley's touch. She felt goosebumps fluttering across her skin. Keenly aware her heavy breasts were brushing against Crowely’s hand.

"You feel my hand?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Good. Now remember the cathedral and just, whatever you're thinking, yell it out."

Azira looked over and realised Crowley had shifted in their seat, to lean in. Closer than she'd realised. Their touch felt like fire. It ignited in her belly and spread through her body. It was so foreign but it felt so exciting and intoxicating. She was drunk on their proximity. 

"How?" she whispered again. 

Crowley smirked, "Like this," they pulled their hand away from Azira's diaphragm to wind down their own window, and then yelled out, their voice cutting through the air like a bullet. 

_ "Get off the road, you wanker!" _

The words reverberated down the alley. The stuck car managed their three point (or rather seven point) turn and sped off. Crowley muttered a quick 'finally' under their breath and drove off too. 

It was a short drive back to Soho. There were no parking spaces on Azira's street, but they found a space the next block down.

"Thank you," Azira said, "for coming along on such short notice. It was- I had a wonderful time."

"Yeah, it was good."

Azira unclasped her seat belt, her hand on the door handle.

"Hey, uh. It's pretty dark-" Crowley said, "this isn't exactly the best place to be out on the street at night. Let me walk you back safe."

They both got out, Crowley still wearing the flashing horns on their head, and began to walk down the dark street toward Azira's small flat. It wasn't a long way to go. Just a few minutes walked in comfortable silence. When they got there they paused. Azira wasn't sure what to say. 

"I had fun tonight." Crowley said plainly. "I'm glad I came."

"Me too."

Crowley didn't move and neither did Azira. They just stood, watching each other in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp. Azira felt something in her stomach. Where before there was fire was now a magnetism urging her forward.

She felt pulled almost beyond her control, stepping into Crowley's space, feeling their breath on her face, on her lips. 

Crowley's head tilted a fraction, a subtle invitation. Azira pushed forward. 

Their lips touched, brushing together so briefly before slowly they both leant into it. Azira felt for a moment like she was floating in the air, utterly weightless and free.

Crowley's mouth slipped open, sucking slightly on Azira's lower lip. 

Azira moaned and pulled back quickly, her face flushed, her mind racing. 

"I- uh, I should go up." she stuttered. 

Crowley too felt flustered. They cleared their throat, rubbing nervously at the back of their neck. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Azira fumbled with the lock and rushed inside. Newt wasn't home yet. She sighed in relief and took herself immediately for a shower. Stepping under the hot stream Azira raised her fingers to her mouth. Why had she… Why did she want to again? She shook her head, focusing on finishing her shower and getting ready for bed.

She lay in bed awake, reliving that kiss in her mind over and over. Analysing everything she had done, everything she didn’t do. What did Crowely think? Would they even want to see her again? It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Newt came home, completely exhausted from his long day. Azira shut her eyes in the dark and listened as he shuffled through the flat, pulled off his clothes and collapsed into the bed next to her. Azira rolled over, doing her best to be convincingly asleep. 

Newt pulled at the covers, settling in himself. Then he rolled on to his side too, shifting close to Azira and throwing an arm over her side. He nuzzled her shoulder and whispered into the darkness. 

"You awake?"

Azira said nothing. 

It didn't seem to worry him. He stifled a yawn into his pillow, and curled closer still. 

"Love you." Newt mumbled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter, they really keep me encouraged to write more.


	5. Chapter 5

Azira felt terrible. She couldn't face Newt without guilt clawing at her insides. She's kissed Crowley. She's kissed someone else and enjoyed it. 

What did this mean? Crowley was- well not a woman, but they weren't a man either. Azira had never been with anyone but a man. She'd never been with anyone but Newt.

She was straight, wasn't she? 

Azira was grateful to spend her days at work away from Newt. He kept giving her these looks, like he was a dog caught doing the wrong thing and she couldn't stand it. At work at least she had distractions. Whether it was Muriel at the front desk nattering away about her grandchildren or Ariella helping her with the damn computer catalogue system. Or even their regular patron Agnes, telling her wild things about the colour of her aura and asking for books on prophecy.

She walked the shelves, straightening books as she went and helping visitors find the things they were after. She had a short lunch break and when she came back she tasked herself with replacing the returns onto the shelves.

Azira had the books stacked in a wheeled trolley, and she walked from aisle to aisle, drawing her finger down the spines of the books to find the right gap in the alphabet for each one. She just finished shelving a copy of American Gods when she selected the next in the pile and checked its decimal system number.

It was a book of motherhood and parenting and Azira placed it back in the trolley so she could make her way to the shelves 300-350. Specifically she needed to find 306.8 and she walked along slowly passing Social Sciences and Sociology until suddenly a title tucked amongst all the others on the shelf jumped out at her from a black spine. 

Nothing But The Girl: The Blatant Lesbian Image.

Azira stopped in the aisle without realising it. She reached for the book, sliding it out from the shelf, her eyes darting across the cover where a black and white photo of a woman posed shirtless. Her breasts were displayed, and Azira felt her face flush. She looked around and found she was quite alone.

There was no harm in looking, she thought carefully to herself. None at all.

If anything it should only prove to herself that this, this thing with Crowley, it was nothing. A non issue. That she was completely straight, and she could move on with her life with Newt, start their family together and move away to the countryside where she could open a second hand bookstore and adopt a cat or something.

Right. That decided Azira carefully placed the book in her pile, under the parenting guide she’d meant to put away, and she walked quickly back to an empty service desk, scanning her own library card and borrowing Nothing But The Girl into her name. Immediately she made her way to the small cramped staff room, holding the book close to her chest, cover hidden from sight until she could slip it into her large handbag.

Azira sighed, relieved no one had tried to stop her on the way.

She returned to work, pushing her trolley back to shelves 300-350 to continue reshelving returns. Closing time came within a few hours and the doors were locked. Muriel began to close all the blinds while Ariella wiped down tables. Azira followed her, putting chairs on the cleaned tables so the cleaner could vacuum the carpets. 

"Do you ever wonder," she said with a forced air of casualness, "What it's like on- on the other team?"

Ariella shrugged, "Depends what you mean by team."

"You know, being with... With another woman."

Her young coworker raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"It's nothing I just- well I'm married now... I've missed my… my chance to experiment I guess."

"I don't know. I guess I'd give it a go. Maybe I'll put it on my bucket list," she pretended to pull a pencil from behind her ear and write in an invisible notebook. "Have lesbian love affair."

Muriel laughed, "I've had one."

Azira whipped around, "Really?"

"What was it like?" Ariella asked keenly. 

Muriel shut the next row of blinds and explained. "it was the 70's and I was young and probably on hash at the time. My best friend had a young man and he convinced us to stay the night, together."

"And?" asked Azira, her heart pounding. 

"It was wonderful. But she felt quite embarrassed and we lost touch. She married her young man six months later, and I met my Eddy the next year."

"Hell yeah!" Ariella said, "Way to rock the free love Muriel." she held out her hand for a high-five and Muriel chuckled, hitting her hand against Ariella's good naturedly. 

They finished closing up and left their separate ways. When Azira got home Newt hadn't arrived yet, so she ordered some Chinese food from a favourite little shop round the corner and fell back on the couch with a sigh. Her handbag sat on the floor by her feet. She eyed it, thinking of the book she had borrowed, and before she could stop to hesitate Azira was reaching down and grabbing it.

She sat the book in her lap and opened the cover.

She flipped through the pages of the introduction until she reached more of the photographs. They, like the cover, were tasteful in black and white. Topless women, sometimes in shadow, sometimes posed with a partner. She continued, page by page. These women radiated from each photo with their leather jackets, short hair cuts and soft curves. 

Azira traced them with feverish eyes. Lip curling under her teeth, her gaze flickered over an image taken from above of a woman lying in bed, arms over her head. She was completely bare and beautiful and Azira liked it. She felt her heart fluttering faster and her breath becoming shallower. She swallowed, thinking about this person in the image moving before her, reaching out and touching -

A key clattered into the door.

Azira flew to her feet, the sound hitting her with full force of panic. She fumbled for the book, slamming it shut and kicking it under the couch just as the door to the flat opened. Newt walked in, his glasses crooked on his nose as he balanced his messenger bag, a suitcase and a plastic bag full of take away containers through the door.

“I’ve got the dinner,” he said, “Bumped into the delivery guy on the stairs.”

Azira smiled, walking over to take the bag of food from him.

“You okay?” Newt asked,

“What?” Azira asked, her voice uncomfortably high as she hoped with everything she had that her face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. “I’m fine, let me just… set the table.”

She retreated leaving Newt to stare after her, wondering what he had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's looking like this fic will might end up being closer to 15 chapters...
> 
> The book Azira checks out (hehe) isn't one i've read myself so I got most my descriptions of the photos etc from looking at this (nsfw) video of a flip through... https://diabeticlesbian.tumblr.com/post/170515848255/from-my-collection-nothing-but-the-girl-the


	6. Chapter 6

The next day Azira took herself to Temptation Carnations, first thing in the morning. She walked in with a determination she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before. Crowley stood spritzing the plants with a water mister and looked up at the ring of the bell. A charming lopsided smile that pulled at Azira’s heartstrings greeted her.

“Hi!” Crowley exclaimed.

“No, no,” Azira said, forcing herself to go through with what she had planned to say. “You're not happy to see me, Crowley. I don't want you to be happy to see me.”

Crowley’s smile slipped, replaced by a slight frown as they watched Azira begin to pace the shop floor. “Okay…?”

“I'm here because- because- I don't know what happened the other night.” Azira said. “You make me feel things I absolutely  _ cannot _ feel. Newt is a good man. He's done nothing wrong. I mean- this is, this is crazy. I’m  _ married _ .”

She wrung her hands together turning on her heels to pace back the way she came. Crowley stopped her, reaching out to take her shoulders.

“Azira-”

The blonde looked up, chills running down her arms from Crowley’s touch.

“Look, I get it. The other night, it was a lapse in judgment, and it won’t happen again. But it was fun wasn’t it? We can be friends.”

Looking into their amber eyes, Azira could see it. Friends; having lunch together, swapping novels, going to see a new play. They could go for rides in Crowley’s fancy car, go for drinks, or dinner. Walk home, and her hand could brush theirs and-

“No,” Azira said, shrugging Crowley’s grip away and taking a step back. “We- we’re not friends, Crowley. We have nothing whatsoever in common. And I- I don’t even like you.”

“You do,”

“I can't do this. I actually cannot do this. So whatever it is or was, it's got to stop, and it's got to stop now. Do you understand? It's over.” Azira took one last long look at Crowley, holding back the tears threatening to come out. 

With a deep sigh she turned and left, the door swinging shut behind her.

\-------------------

Crowley stared after her, speechless. They felt blindsighted. They knew, of course they knew that their kiss had been wrong. That they had dipped their toes into dangerous waters, across some invisible line. But they had thought, had hoped, maybe they could put that aside. 

Crowley sighed sadly, and turned back to the plants, raising the mister.

The bell rang again.

Crowley looked up and found themself pushed back until they were pressed against the counter, soft lips on theirs. Azira had her eyes shut and her hands gripping the front of Crowley’s jacket.

They kissed her back, hands immediately reaching into blonde curls, holding her closer. Azira moaned, melting into their touch. She pulled at the zip on Crowley’s jacket and the florist pulled back, eyes dark.

“We can’t do this here,” they said in a low whisper.

Azira nodded, adrenalin spinning through her body. Crowley took one of her hands in theirs, squeezing it softly and reassuringly.

“Come with me.”

They pulled her to the back room, shutting the door and pushing Azira firmly back against the closest wall, gripping her by the collar this time. Their lips met, slanting across each other and Azira felt her knees go weak. She was held up only by the press of Crowley’s body against hers, and her hands scrambled for purchase on theirs.

Crowley’s jacket fell to the ground and their fingers made quick work of the buttons of Azira’s blouse. It hung open, revealing the white bra underneath. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Crowley murmured into their kisses, pulling the shirt out of the skirt it was tucked into so they could reach underneath it to touch Azira’s soft porcelain skin.

Azira didn’t know what to say to that. She slid her hands down over Crowley’s backside, and tried to regain her footing to take control of whatever was happening. She stumbled, and they fell, landing in a pile of flowers waiting to be stocked in the front of the store. Neither took any notice, rolling over in the flowers until Crowley climbed into Azira’s lap, straddling one of her thighs.

They bent over her, trailing their kisses down her neck to her decolletage. Azira moaned, her hips rolling up and pressing against Crowley’s thigh with a delightful pressure.

She felt weightless, floating in this feeling of ecstasy Azira reached out for something to hold on too and ground her but found only sharp pain.

“Ow!” she exclaimed,

“What, what?”

“Thorns,” she said, sitting up and inspecting the damage. The thorns had stung, but they didn’t break the skin and she laughed at the absurdity. Crowley chuckled too, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Azira’s ear. 

Azira smiled, softly, her blue eyes staring into Crowley’s amber ones.

The bell rang.

“Another customer.” Crowley said apologetically, Azira still laughing on the rush of endorphins. “Give me a minute…”

“Hello?” called a voice from the front of the store. A familiar voice, “Crowley?”

Azira’s laughter stopped. It was Newt.

“Crowley, you in the back?”

Crowley scrambled to their feet. “Just a moment!” they called out, quickly combing their fingers through their messed hair. They grabbed their coat and pulled it back on before slipping through the door to the shop. Newt stood with his hands in his pockets, his glasses slightly askew as he bent over to smell a flower.

“I was just, uh, stock taking.” they lied, “What can I do for you, Newt?”

“Well, er- I want to buy some flowers. That’s why I came to a florist’s...”

“Flowers, of course.” Crowley stepped around the counter walking over closer to the displays.

“Not for me, obviously. For Azira.” Newt sighed, “Recently, I don’t know what’s wrong, but she's just been a bit… I don't know. But I thought, maybe a nice bunch of flowers could help cheer her up?”

“Absolutely.” Crowley nodded, fighting back bile. “What does she like?”

Newt shrugged, “You know what she likes.”

Crowley stared, sure he knew, sure he’d heard them in the back room, had seen them the other night. 

Newt frowned in confusion, but elaborated. “Roses. She likes roses.”

“Right,” Crowley nodded. “Well, that's simple.”

They began to put together a bouquet. Newt watched awkwardly and adjusted his glasses just to give himself something to do with his hands. 

“So, did you enjoy dinner the other night?”

Crowley didn’t look up from the bouquet, “It was, uh, different...”

“How did you find her then?” 

They choked. He knew. He had to know. “What?” they managed, their voice strangled.

Newt shuffled his feet. “Was she… happy?”

Crowley kept their back to Newt as they pulled some baby’s-breath from a bucket, considering the question and what it meant for him to be asking them about Azira’s happiness. Slowly they turned around, trying to look him in the eye like they hadn’t been just about to- to do  _ something _ with his wife in their backroom.

“Fine. I mean, I wouldn’t really... She was fine.”

Newt nodded, “I don't suppose she… I was just wondering if she said anything about… about… about me or…” he sighed, forlorn. 

Crowley stopped, watching him as guilt clawed through them. 

He continued, “I just think maybe I'm doing something wrong, and if she said what it was… whatever I'm doing, or not doing, then I can fix it. And then we can get back to what things were. Before.”

He looked over at Crowley, his eyes sad and hopeful.

“She didn't say anything.”

Newt sighed, “Right.” he said, “Thank you.” 

Crowley finished gathering the roses and wrapped them in paper and cellophane. It felt wrong to charge him, considering, so Crowley waived the fee and saw him to the door.

Newt pulled it open with a ring of the bell and he was about to leave when Crowley spoke up.

“You should talk to her.” They said. “That is, she- she loves you. And whatever it is- you should talk to her about it. Not me.”

He offered her a sad smile and shook his head. “I can’t do that. That’s far too scary- but thanks, Crowley. I’ll uh, catch you later.”

He left.

Crowley shut the door and headed straight for the back room. For a split second they thought it was empty, that she’d escaped out of the window. But No, Azira was still there, tears in her eyes as she struggled with shaking fingers to do up her buttons.

“Azira-”

“Stop. Crowley, I can’t- I can’t  _ do _ this.”

Crowley stepped closer and Azira took a step back. 

“Just talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azira asked, “I heard him. I'm lying here, tasting you on my lips and I heard him. He's blaming himself.”

“You can put an end to this!” Crowley told her.

“ _ How? _ ”

“Tell me to stop. Tell me that's what you want, and I will walk away… and you never have to see me again.”

Azira felt a tear slide down her cheek. “Is that what you want?” She asked.

Crowley couldn’t say anything. They shook their head sadly, dropping their gaze to the ground.

“Crowley…”

They looked up, hopeful that maybe… maybe she would-

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

And with that Azira pushed past them and out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Crowley parked their car with a sigh. They grabbed their bag and keys and got out, walking down the street to their mother’s house. They let themself in and walked straight into the sitting room, opening the liquor cabinet. Crowley poured themself a whisky and fell into the closest armchair.

“Antoine? Is that you darling?”

“Yeah, it’s me mum.” Crowley called back. They kicked their feet up on the coffee table, sipping their drink.

Gezibelle Tracy pottered in from the kitchen. Her usually vibrant red hair was faded, and topped with grey regrowth, her outlandish fashion replaced with a dressing gown and house slippers. She held a mug of tea close to her chest and settled on the loveseat, tucking a blanket around her legs. Crowley wondered if she’d spent the day cooped up in bed again. If she’d eaten.

“What are you doing?” They asked idly.

“I live here,” their mother retorted, “What are you doing?”

“I came to- to tidy, or something,” Crowley shrugged, they didn’t feel much like talking. That’s why they had come here instead of going home where Esther would no doubt have something to say about it all. “You should be dressed, mum.”

Gezibelle tutted, “I was dressed. I’m just settling in for the evening, is that allowed?”

“Mum, it's barely five.”

“And you’ve finished work already?” Gezibelle asked with an arched eyebrow. “You don’t have another mysterious date you don’t want to tell me about, do you? Because I may be a spinster dear, but I can take it.”

Crowley rolled their eyes, “No, mum. I don’t have a date- Although  _ you _ could. Have you considered-”

“What? Tea dances, reading groups, bridge clubs? The only men I'd meet there are sad old stoggers.”

“You’re sad,” Crowley countered.

“I’m depressed, dear. There’s a difference.” She took a sip of her drink and set aside her mug. “But enough about me; what has you in such a sorry state?”

Crowley groaned, covering their face with their hands. “I met a girl. But nothing can happen- she’s with someone else.”

“And does she love you?”

“I don’t know.” Crowley murmured, “No. Yes? But it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh dear,” Gezibelle said, reaching forward to place a hand on Crowley’s knee. “It’s all that matters.”

“How?”

Gezibelle rubbed Crowley's knee reassuringly. “When," she began delicately, "when your mother and father left-”

Crowley wrinkled their nose, thinking of the people who’d raised them to their pre-teen years. Beatrice and Louis had been awful people. They had a filthy house crawling with roaches and flies and anything else you could think of. The house reeked, and Crowley was mostly ignored, left to their own devices while Louis spent his days drunk and his nights sleeping with whoever he could. Beatrice, they thought, must have loved him, once upon a time. But all Crowley remembered was the resentment.

Crowley had dragged themself to school in stained clothes, desperate to learn and find a way out of that hellhole. But inevitably there had been fights. With teachers, with students, with anyone who raised their nose at them. Until one day Louis didn't come home, sick of Crowley, Beatrice had told them. It was the two of them for a month before she fucked off too.

Crowley remembered coming home from school, locked out of the house. They climbed in through the side window with the broken latch and found the place abandoned. Everything was ransacked, anything worth anything gone. All that was left was their crap furniture and a garbage bag of Crowley’s clothes. Next door their eccentric neighbour was waiting for them. She had a warm dinner on the table and clean bedsheets, she took Crowley in and the next morning they went to the police and filed for guardianship. 

Crowley shook the memories away.

“ _ You’re _ my mother,”

Gezibelle smiled sadly, “Of course dear. But when your birth family left, they broke your heart. But look at who you've become. No matter what happens, the heart can always mend again.”

Crowley offered a sad smile and raised her glass. “Thanks mum.” They said, before knocking back the last of her whisky.

\--------------------

Across town Azira sat alone in her flat. The roses from Newt sat in a vase on the kitchen table, but she couldn’t look at them. She kept thinking about the pain she’d heard in his voice. He was blaming himself for something he could never have seen coming. Guilt clawed its way through her body, turning her stomach to the point that she barely touched the simple sandwich she made for her supper. 

She sat up, waiting for Newt to come home. Knowing she had to talk to him. To explain. 

To keep herself from pacing a hole in the floorboards she’d put on a record. The record player had once belonged to Newt’s grandmother, he’d had it almost as long as she’d known him. His family were tired of replacing his boombox which broke near constantly in their youth. She also grabbed a book, an old favourite, and forced herself to read. It took twice as long as it usually would but it was something. Especially as the hours ticked by, one by one, and Newt still hadn’t arrived.

It wasn’t until half eleven that she finally heard his key in the door. Azira looked up, turning in the sofa to see the door swing open and Newt to stumble in. He held a box in his arms, his tie was loose around his neck, and his glasses askew. He was singing to himself, unaware of his audience as he clumsily toed of his work shoes.

“Newt! I was getting worried…” Azira murmured. Seeing him stumble she got up and took the box from him. “What’s all this?”

“Got fired,” Newt slurred to her, “Bloody brilliant isn’t it? Spent three years at college to become a computer engineer, and I’m still just… rubbish. Rubbish. I personally crashed every computer, in the whole office.”

“Oh Newt…”

“So I went to the pub,” he told her, pulling his tie off and dropping it carelessly to the floor. “Rubbish.”

Azira sighed. She sat the box of his things down by the vase of flowers. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I want to talk to you, too,” Newt said. “Just need the loo, then I'm all ears.”

“I'll be waiting,” Azira said softly, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom.

He stumbled his way back over a few minutes later, gladly accepting the glass of water Azira offered him. He tipped it back, drinking the whole glass steadily down before falling gracelessly into the couch.

“Okay,” he mumbled, “shoot.”

Azira swallowed, trying to steady her shaking hands. “I wanted to talk to you because… because something’s happened. But I’ve stopped it- I have. I put it to an end and it won’t happen again. I wasn't even looking for it, it just… It just happened. And you, you’re-” she was pacing, unable to turn around and face him properly. She’d always been soft, she thought. A coward.

“...You've a right to know. Because you’re a good man, Newt, and I while I didn't plan it, it happened. I kissed someone. I started having feelings and it wasn’t for you- but I've stopped it. I promise I've stopped it, and I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry, and I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, because believe me, I feel absolutely horrid about it all.” She turned, hoping to find some kind of reassurance from her husband.

But instead she just found Newt, lying on his side on the couch, eyes shut, mouth hanging open. 

“Newt? No, don't sleep. Not now.” Azira crouched on the floor, kneeling next to the sofa and placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to stir. “Wake up, Newt, please. I don’t think I can say this more than once… I needed to tell you. It was unfair to- I'm staying. Of course, I couldn't,  _ wouldn't _ leave you. I’m just, I’m so sorry.”

She wiped her tears on the back of her hand and stood. Azira removed his glasses gently, placing them on the end table before she grabbed a throw blanket and wrapped it over Newt’s still form. She sighed slowly, watching him a moment before retreating to the bedroom.

Her footsteps faded, and the lights went out. 

Newt shifted, the blanket falling slowly to the floor. His eyes opened.

What a rubbish day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed even if its a little angsty hahah.


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley sat at the counter of Temptation Carnations, slouched over the desk, their head in their hand. They had barely moved all day, doing the bare minimum and interacting with customers as little as possible. Truth be told, Crowley knew they were being pathetic, sitting here moping over a straight married girl.

But Azira… Azira wasn’t just anybody. Crowley felt like they had known her their whole life. Longer. They didn’t know what it was but being here and not being with Azira, it felt wrong. And so they were sulking. Fuck what any customer thought of it.

The bell above the door rang. Crowley didn’t look up. Either their customer would know exactly what they wanted and buy it, or they’d give up and leave. Hopefully it would be the latter.

“Oh honestly, the sex can't have been that amazing, she's a heterosexual for hell's sake."

Crowley glanced up without moving and saw a slim figure in a sharp blazer and pencil skirt. They rolled their eyes, but spoke anyway.

"Why are you here Esther?"

"Just checking in on you." Esther said, walking over to the counter and leaning her hip against it. "Still moping I see.”

“Shove off, Esther.” Crowely muttered, pushing themself upright. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so.”

“Are you planning on buying something? Or just annoying me?”

Esther smirked, “Well as fun as that is I wanted to let you know I’ve been offered a flat.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s good isn’t it?”

“It is.” Esther said, “I need to talk it over with Francine, of course. But it's got a pathetic little garden in the back she can take over so she'll be happy."

Crowley nodded, and when Esther didn’t say anything more they raised their eyebrows. "There's something else."

"What makes you say that?" 

"You didn't come here just to tell me about a flat."

Esther heaved a dramatic sigh, acting very put upon as she explained, "Well it's just a matter of Francine's job, you see. She's given notice but they've asked her to help find them a replacement…"

Crowley narrowed their eyes suspiciously.

"And well the only other person we know with such a green thumb is, well, you my dear."

"Francine is a gardener, Esther. I'm a florist."

"Ah, but you have such a way with plants."

"Esther-"

"And it's such a peaceful part of the countryside, a really beautiful estate. Comes with a quaint little gardener's cottage."

"I don't need a cottage, I have a flat here. In London. I like it in London."

"It would be on a flexible contract and between us and your mother the shop would be well taken care of…"

Crowley stared at her. "Are you trying to get rid of me Esther?"

"No of course not darling," Esther reassured them, "It's only an hour or so out of the city when you think about it. We could spend every damn weekend together if you wanted. We just thought, you're very hung up on this girl, Antoine, and it's not likely to get better with you moping around here and putting yourself out of business."

Crowley said nothing so Esther continued.

"It's really a wonderful property, you'd love it. And the fresh air, being away from the smog of the city, it will do you good."

"Francine's already told them I'll do it hasn't she?"

"Not in so many words…"

Crowley rolled their eyes. "And you're sure it's a flexible contract?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"If I give them a call, will you leave my shop?"

“Of course.”

Crowley nodded, “Okay then. I’ll call. Now go.”

Esther smiled, clapping her perfectly manicured hands together. "Wonderful."

\-------------------------

"Mother really, I can't babysit tonight I- Yes I know Daddy's work is important but- of course I don't want him to risk missing a promotion, I just- mother it's really not the best time."

Azira was sitting in a little cafe around the corner from her job at the library. She was supposed to be enjoying her lunch break with an apple turnover and some chai tea, but instead she had her mother's berating in her ear. 

"It's a business dinner darling, it will only take a few hours," her mother stressed to her, "and it's important for your father to make a good impression. The CEO of the company will be there. Besides, you could use the money now poor Newton is unemployed, again."

There would be no end to this until she conceded, Azira realised grumpily. She may as well give in now, just to save herself a few more hours of prodding and guilting.

“Okay, yes. Fine. I’ll do it.” She said curtly, “just, email me with the details mother. I have to get back to work.” and before she could get a reply she hung up.

Ariza heaved a long sigh, taking a sip of her tea gratefully. It was no longer as hot as she would have liked but it was a great relief just to have something she liked. 

Her mother was right, they could use the money. Newt had been out of work two weeks now, and despite sending off his resume and walking round to the unemployment office for help he hadn't had so much as an interview since. They could stay afloat for now, but it wouldn't last forever.

But things at home… Azira wasn't sure if it was her guilt torturing her or if she was just imagining it, but it felt tense. Like they were both walking around on tiptoe afraid to wake some monster hiding in their flat. Newt barely looked at her. He said he was upset about losing his job, and worried about finding a new one but Azira couldn't help but feel there was more.

As for herself, well. She'd made her decision. She was staying, 'til death do us part and all that.

She hadn't seen Crowley since...

No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't think of Crowley. Especially not with gut wrenching longing and memories of deep kisses and a sturdy thigh between her legs, her heart in her throat. She groaned, trying to shake thoughts of Crowley far far away. Azira finished her lunch and chai and left the cafe. She sent a message to Newt about the babysitting and walked back to work with a sigh. 

Time simultaneously seemed to drag and fly past her in a snap. Once she was finished at work she went home, had a quick bite and changed her clothes and before she knew it she found herself sitting in Dick Turpin with Newt, on their way to her parents house. It was a forty minute drive with traffic and they spent it in silence.

Azira stared out the passenger window, hoping Newt would say something. Anything. But he hadn't been saying much of anything at all lately. Eventually she gave in, turning to face him as she asked;

"So, how was your day?"

"I got two more rejections."

"Oh."

He didn't look at her, his eyes firmly planted on the road ahead.

"My mother rang."

"How is she?"

He shrugged, "She says I should try for a temp role in an office."

"Newt-"

"We're here." He cut her off.

Azira looked out the windscreen and saw that yes, they had arrived. Parked on the street right outside her parents home, behind her father's BMW. The pair got out, locked Dick Turpin and headed to the front door.

Azira knocked politely and almost immediately it swung open to reveal Ada.

"Hi Zira! Hi uncle Newt!"

Azira smiled. Despite her tumultuous relationship with her parents, she adored her siblings. She stepped forward and pulled her little sister into a firm hug, kissing the top of Ada’s curly brown hair. She gave her an extra squeeze before letting go and asking her about her day at school.

"Azira! What are you doing here?"

Azira looked up and saw her father coming down the stairs in a pristine lavender and grey suit. She forced a smile.

"Mother asked Newt and I to babysit "

"Oh yes of course; she mentioned hiring someone," he said dismissively. “Where is your mother; we should be leaving.”

“Mummy’s in the kitchen,” Ada said helpfully. Gabriel nodded and walked past them, not bothering to pause for a handshake or a hug to greet either Newt or Azira. Newt walked away and Azira deflated a little. It was going to be a long night.

But Ada was blissfully naive to her sister's anxiety, and pulled her away to show off a new toy she'd been given. It was in the front room where Newt now sat with Warlock, the pair of them glued to the television screen where Warlock played some horrid game of people shooting at each other.

"This is him!" Ada said excitedly, and she presented Azira with an animatronic toy shaped like a dog. Ada pressed a spot on its back and the toy wagged its tail and turned its head, making a panting sound.

"Oh!" Azira smiled, "how lovely. What's, er, what's his name?"

"Dog." Ada announced proudly.

"Oh, well that's an excellent name for a dog."

"Dogs smell like poo," Warlock teased from the sofa.

Ada ignored him.

"I asked Daddy for a real dog but he said no."

"Yeah, because dogs smell like poo." Warlock insisted.

Newt chuckled, "You know I had a dog growing up. His name was Muttley." Sensing Warlock's question he added, "he did smell a bit like poo."

Warlock grinned and Ada laughed too, going to sit on Newt's other side. As she did Gabriel and Michaela walked into the room, their overcoats on. Gabriel clapped his hands together with a grin.

"Right," he said. "Time for us to go. Goodbye kisses and we'll see you in the morning."

He walked over and kissed both twins on the top of the head, followed by Micheala.

"If you need anything don't call us," Gabriel said to Azira. "We'll be back when we're done." 

He turned and left.

"Your dinner is in the fridge. Have a good time," Micheala said and she, unlike her husband, gave Azira and Newt each a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

"Shall we see what's for dinner?" Newt asked.

The kids both nodded, abandoning their games to jump up and follow Newt to the kitchen. Azira trailed after them, hanging back as they reached the kitchen and Newt found a lasagna in the fridge, waiting to be cooked. He put the oven on to preheat and then got to work with Warlock and Ada to make a side salad while they waited.

Azira watched, trying to imagine a future where Newt cooked with their own children. But as she sat and pictured it she struggled to see the children with Newt's dark mop of hair and glasses, or even her own white curls. She saw two figures instead with long red hair, falling down their backs in luscious waves. Intricately braided by practiced fingers. A vase of home grown roses on the table and a crooked smile teasing her over unsuspecting heads.

She shook her head.

"Azira?"

"Huh?" She looked up and realised the children had left again. The salad was made and sitting in the fridge, the lasagna sitting in the oven. "Yes?"

"Nothing, you just uh, zoned off."

Azira nodded. "Sorry, it was a long day. Let me just… freshen up a bit."

She hurried off to the bathroom. In truth she was hiding. Could he tell what she'd been thinking? Of course not, that was absurd. But the guilt of it still wracked through her.

Azira splashed her face with water, looking up into her own reflection. "You love your husband," she whispered to herself. "He's a good man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more chapters to go. I'm sorry they've been so short... :/


	9. Chapter Nine

Dinner went well. The lasagna was delicious and Azira had a third serving before deciding it was time for the kids to have a bath before bed. Warlock went first, and Azira listened to him tell her all about the video game he had been playing and his collection of virtual guns and other things she'd rather he didn't find so cool.

Once he was washed and dry she sent him off to get into his pyjamas and in came Ada for her bath. By the time she was finished too Warlock had played another battle with Newt, trying hopelessly to teach him how to play.

"Are you ready?" Azira asked him.

He nodded and packed away his game while Ada dressed and brushed her teeth. Once they were both in bed Azira read them a chapter from The Colour of Magic. Ada fell asleep first, and by the time chapter ended Warlock's eyelids were drooping.

Azira smiled and moved to tuck them both in for the night before turning out the light and heading back downstairs.

Newt stood in the front room with a nearly empty glass of wine. He downed the last sip and slowly lowered his glass.

"I can't do this," he murmured.

"Do what?"

Newt sighed, he took off his glasses briefly, rubbing at his eyes before sliding them back in place. " _ This _ . I thought I could, but I can't."

"I don't understa-"

"I heard you. The other night. I was drunk out of my mind but I heard you Azira."

Azira stepped forward, "Newt, I- I'm staying. I'm not leaving you, I choose to stay."

He shook his head. "I don't want a consolation prize marriage."

"It's not- Newt. You're my _best_ _friend_." She reached out, taking one of his hands in her own and squeezing his fingers imploringly.

"I think that's all I ever have been. I've always sort of known. But you agreed to go out with me anyway and you would kiss me. You agreed to marry me. But there's never been," he paused taking a fortifying breath. "There's never been butterflies and electric kisses and passion, lust. Not for each other anyway."

Azira felt tears burning at her eyes. He was right. Everything he said was right. But it  _ hurt _ .

"But we're married, we made vows."

"You don't understand," he said, and she could see there were tears swelling up behind his glasses. "It's not you leaving that will kill me. It's you loving someone else more. And you do, don’t you? I’m your best friend, but you love him."

Azira didn’t say anything.

“I can't do that, Azira. I can't spend the rest of my life knowing I'm second best."

She stared at him, lost for words. Lost completely as the only person she'd felt truly saw her turned around and walked away.

She stayed there, moving only to sit on the settee and pour herself some wine in Newt's abandoned glass. And she stayed there, slowly nursing her glass until her parents returned from dinner two hours later.

"Where's Newton," Michaela asked, walking in and placing her handbag down on a chair.

"He's left," Azira murmured.

Her mother nodded absently and began to walk back out, "Well you can have the spare room tonight. Is he picking you up in the morning?"

"No. He's left... Me." 

"He's left you?"

Gabriel, who Azira hadn't realised was paying her any attention from where he stood in the doorway, got a dark and dangerous look in his eye.

"Well, he'll have to answer to me if he-"

"No daddy, don't. It's, it's my fault," Azira explained, feeling the tears she'd held back all night threaten to spill. "I- I fell in love with someone else."

"Someone else?" Her mother asked with a frown.

"Yes," Azira looked down at her feet, too ashamed, too cowardly she thought, to see the disappointment in her parents' faces.

But Micheala wasn't disappointed, just confused.

"When did you meet?"

"At the wedding."

Michaela raised her eyebrows, " _ Your _ wedding?"

"Yes."

Azira fell silent. She could feel her mother's stare and didn't feel much like facing up to it. She didn't feel like doing anything, except maybe curl under the covers of her bed and never come out.

"Well," her father broke the silence. "Who is the poor chap?" And he chuckled.

"They're not- their name is Crowley." She said, fumbling over the words. "They were the florist."

"But your florist was a woman," her mother cut in dismissively. "Are you a lesbian?"

"Crowley is non binary."

Michaela ignored her, "This is ridiculous, Azira. There are plenty of good men, just because it's not working with Newton doesn't mean you need to swear off men altogether."

"I haven't sworn off anything, mother. I didn't mean for this to happen, I just fell in love."

"With a woman."

Michaela threw her hands into the air with exasperation and began to pace.

"Look mother, I'm not asking you for anything. I'm not even asking you to understand. I'm just telling you what happened. You can, you can either accept it or not."

Michaela opened her mouth to argue, but to Azira's surprise Gabriel cut in before she could start.

"Michaela, dear, perhaps you should go and make us all a cup of tea. Calm down."

"But-"

"Please."

Michaela nodded stiffly and walked away. Once they were alone Gabriel turned to face Azira. He wore a smile that was kind, but also rather condescending. Like she was a toddler having a tantrum over eating her vegetables.

"Forgive her," he said gently. "She's very traditional."

"I know."

"But she loves you. She only wants what's best for you."

Azira shook her head, "She wants what's best for her. And her daughter being a, a lesbian or whatever I am, that doesn't fall into her plan."

Gabriel shook his head, "Perhaps not. But she will adjust. It will be okay. Have a cup of tea, Azira and go to bed. You will feel better in the morning, and I can drive you back to the city."

And then he gave her the shock of her life. He pulled her into his arms for a hug. She stood stiff, then slowly, cautiously, she relaxed. She hugged him back.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and placed his hands on her shoulders pushing her back from the hug gently.

"Now," he said with a rallying grin as he slapped her shoulder firmly. "Buck up and off to bed with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was a delay in posting this chapter. I hope it was worth it though :)


End file.
